Spring 13
by teanotes
Summary: For some reason, he had never been happier on his father's birthday than today. — MollyGill


a/n: yo i kinda felt like using his in-game lines in a drabble, so you can probably pick em out if you wanna

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She was in his house again, only staring at him stupidly before she opened her mouth.

"100 G for your thoughts?"

"My thoughts aren't worth that little."

Gill watched as Molly's eyebrows scrunched up like little wiggly worms. People were easy to read, but there was something about this farmer that seemed—unreadable. Maybe because she was written in a completely different language. Or maybe just scribbles; that would make sense.

"Okay," She said, scratching her arm before taking out a case of Mashed Potatoes. "Well, I just came to give your pop his birthday present. It is his birthday, right? Spring 13? I made one of his favorites."

This was the thing that completely stumped Gill every single time. Molly, the somehow competent-yet-clueless girl, was actually capable of remembering so many little details about every single person on the island. Birthdays, he could understand—there was such thing as calendars—but favorite foods? Favorite games? It freaked him out just because if there was anyone on the island more capable of knowing such things, it would be him.

But it isn't. It's Molly the cow hugging rancher from down the lane.

"Yeah, it is." Gill replied as curtly as he could and grabbed the glassy case from her—holy Goddess those were some tiny hands; how can she get anything done? "Is that all?"

Molly shrugged, a smile on her face. She had a cut on her left cheek, but didn't seem to notice it. Gill would've pointed it out, but it wasn't bleeding, so it probably wasn't serious. She probably got it in the mines, Gill thought. She always goes there without reason. He would never set foot; mines equal dirt, and dirt is never on his agenda.

"Say, Gill," Molly started, "What are your hobbies?"

Caught off guard a little, he cleared his throat. "My hobbies? I like to read books and write my journal. When I write about my day it makes it easier to remember things. It's a good habit to write things down."

"Oh." Molly stared at him some more, which almost made Gill squirm, but he shoved the feeling away. He went to sit down on the dinner table. His father was somewhere outside, probably working a little late—on his birthday. Which sucked, but Gill wouldn't say anything about it.

"Why don't you like Bell Peppers?" That was the next thing flying out of her.

Gill grimaced at her words as if Bell Peppers magically appeared in front of him, ugly leaves and all. "I hate Bell Peppers. I'll bet you think that's pretty childish."

Molly giggled a little. "'Course not."

"It's okay if they're cooked with other things to disguise the taste though." After a second thought, he added, "I hate green vegetables, too."

"How silly," She replied. Wait, why did she care?

"Is there any benefit to asking me these trivial things? I have more work to do when you leave."

He could imagine a cartoonish question mark coming out of her head as she tilted it. "I thought we were going to wait for Mayor Hamilton? Aren't we… celebrating _together?_"

Molly flushed red, and it was kind of interesting to watch as her ears were turning, too.

"What in Castanet gave you that idea?" Gill asked her, not in a completely rude way, but in a way that made her even flush even brighter. It was kind of funny, but Gill did not laugh.

"I just assumed… Mayor Hamilton told me to… I dunno," She stumbled with her words. "I thought he said I should come and stay?"

Then, everything clicked. His father is staying late—probably not even staying late, but out with some other villagers celebrating his birthday at the Brass Bar or something—while he's alone with the farmer without proper posture. His own father set him up with _her_.

Molly. Mollymollymollymolly. _It's not even a pretty name_, he brought himself to believe.

"That dumb mustachioed little—" He began to mumble, but even then he knew it was a pretty lame thing to get angry about. That wasn't even a cool insult, but he tried not to cuss in front of Molly. It was like cussing in front of a little kid.

"It's okay!" Molly offered. "I can go home—"

"You're already here," Gill said a little too quickly. "It'd be a bother."

Blinking, Molly nodded. "I forgot I brought you some things, too, Gill."

She took out a bottle of Tomato Juice and a case of Risotto out of that old rucksack of hers, and then some. There were crackers, too, which was to be eaten with the tomato sauce. He hoped he wasn't as red as the food.

Molly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and Gill had to make sure he was sitting because he was almost going to fall.

He cleared his throat for the second time that evening. "Uh, it's not my birthday, you know."

"I know—that's Winter 2nd," She rushed. "Tomatoes aren't in season, but a friend from Sunshine Islands shipped it to me yesterday and I had lots of leftovers."

"Oh" was all Gill could say.

She finally sat down next to him, and it was only then he realized how little she was. He couldn't understand how she was able to keep up a farm, let alone a whole island, when she looked like a short punch in the stomach could send her flying into another galaxy. But she had that thing about her—the thing that made her look really, get this, _capable_.

"So," Molly said, "Are we going to wait for your dad to start eating?"

Gill shook his head, and started for the Risotto. Molly giggled some more. For some reason, he had never been happier on his father's birthday than today.

"Just wait until your birthday, Gill," Molly laughed. "I'd have a ton more stuff to give you."

"Whatever you want." He replied, still keeping his calm. After a bout of eating in silence, he spoke. "Tomorrow is the Flower Festival, you know."

"Oh? What about it?"

"You're coming with me, right?"

There was no way he was waiting three more months until she gave him this kind of attention again.


End file.
